


The Last Union

by SecretSpyder



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Book 15: Skin Game, F/M, Incest, Parent/Child Incest, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2859089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretSpyder/pseuds/SecretSpyder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicodemus and Deirdre have a lot to talk about, and it's best that it be just between them... Immediately prior to Skin Game. Major Spoilers for Skin Game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Union

**Author's Note:**

> I know that it's in the tags, but it's worth repeating: Graphic parent/child incest, major spoilers for Skin Game.
> 
> I can't be the only one who wanted messed-up Nicodemus/Deirdre smut after reading Skin Game... but I couldn't find any. So I made it.
> 
> The Dresden Files is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

I started the evening by releasing Anduriel.

Not for long, only a few hours—I had given him some substandard excuse that now would be an excellent time to monitor the shadow network. But he knew as well as I did that it was because I needed some time alone.

Deirdre’s Fallen did not have a separate existence from her, but she nonetheless endeavored the same. I saw her take her coin and wrap it in a clean cloth handkerchief, kiss it, then put it in the desk drawer, beside the Gideon’s Bible and television remote control.

The hotel wasn’t up to our usual standard, especially when travelling together—for one, we usually requested a room _not_ endowed with the Enemy’s book of filth. (We would have to come up with some clever way to desecrate it later. Petty, but in times like these we could both use the amusement.) But we were travelling discreetly. While nobody outside of the organization knew all of the accounts to which Deirdre and I had access, the identities and estates… Tessa, though impetuous, knew enough to discover any of them.

Until she was safely in Iran, the figurative “no-tell hotel” would have to do.

I moved over to my daughter and sat next to her, placing one hand on the side of her face. She looked smaller than usual, drawn and wan, and I knew it wasn’t just for releasing her Fallen. “We are alone,” I said. “Tell me what disturbs you.”

She looked up at me, her face a mess of conflict and sorrow—and underneath it, in the set of her small chin, resolution. She’d looked almost the same when she’d first decided to take her Coin… and seldom since. “Lilith thinks this is a bad idea,” she said. “She doesn’t want me to do it.”

“I can understand that,” I said. “The Fallen are like us in a number of ways. They form attachments, develop patterns. Fifteen centuries is a long time to stay tied to a single soul… I understand she would not want to lose you now.”

“It’s a long time to _be_ someone,” she quipped back. “We both agree the artifacts will be worth it—you won’t have any trouble with her, when it comes to it. She just wants us to take more time, discovering an alternate way.”

“Maybe a separate door into a god’s most valuable safe?” I ventured. “Another soul who cares for the plan enough to willingly _die_ for it? I don’t suppose she has any particular suggestions?”

Deirdre blinked away, and I realized it had been a miscalculation to castigate her Fallen; while my daughter held me higher than any of the creatures of the Planes, she shared her head with Lilith. I softened my tone. “She wants us to bring a Squire along, just to see, right?” I asked. “If we kill him first, and he’s insufficiently loyal, we’ve still lost nothing. Right?”

Deirdre nodded, still avoiding my gaze.

“And if it were just a group of _us_ , just Denarians, that would work. Absent outside influence the Squires will perform admirably.” Here I took my hand back from her face, shaking my head. “But we _can’t_ complete our objectives with only us, even if we could rely on the others not to betray us, either. The team we’re building needs a number of rogue elements… elements we cannot control.”

“Harry Dresden,” spat my daughter.

I nodded. “You know what he accomplished with the shadow of Lasciel,” I said. “Would you give our Squires any better of a chance?”

The conflict was gone from her face, the obstinate set of her jaw multiplied. She stared past me, like she were staring through the walls of the hotel. “Promise me,” she said with a voice of stone, “when all of this is done… _promise me_ you will kill that wizard for me. I want to die _knowing_ he will pay for what he did to you.”

“You have my word,” I said, and meant it. Then, to seal the deal, bent forward, a hand on either side of her face, and kissed her.

She leaned back into me, hands going up the sides of my shirt while her tongue pressed against my lips, probing for entrance.

It was nothing we hadn’t done, tens of thousands of times. But it felt _different_. I couldn’t remember the last time it had just been _us_ … no Anduriel, no Lilith, no Tessa or Imariel. Just Nicodemus and Deirdre.

It was intoxicating, and heartbreaking, and I didn’t want it to stop for a thousand years.

I put my hands through her hair as I kissed her, strands flat and slightly greasy from travel—and entirely stationary. I felt it for a long time, petting slightly, as she pushed me down onto my back, running her tongue against mine, against my lips, against the edge of my teeth.

“Father,” she murmured breathlessly as she pulled half an inch away to catch her breath—and the tone, full of need, was enough to get me all the way hard in moments. I groaned with the strain of it, and while I couldn’t remember even at the time what language I spoke, I knew the word meant “my daughter.”

She was opening the buttons of my shirt now, and I was running my hands down her body, thin and sharp as a knife. I pictured Anduriel doing the same with her shadow—then banished the thought; for the time being, he was not welcome here.

“Hold,” I said as she finished with my buttons, then leaned forward to shrug out of my shirtsleeves. She started at my pants, but I shifted away and shook my head—“You,” I said. “I want to see you.”

She bit her lip and smiled, and slowly pulled her sweater over her head. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and her small breasts stood nearly firm enough to point at the ceiling. Her skirt was next, and then I was staring at the closest thing to perfection I would ever know; partially Tessa, partially me… and every single inch _herself_.

I launched forward in a movement, tackling her with a wolfish grin while she giggled and the tired springs of the mattress complained.

I buried my face in the crook of her neck, feeling every giggle through my lips, while one hand cupped her breast and another tried vainly to free myself from my pants. She threaded her fingers through my hair and whispered nonsense, over and over, until I’d finally managed to kick my legs free of their garment.

I pulled back then, looking at the tableau—but my daughter didn’t stay still, pushing herself up to hold my face. She smiled at me a moment, then bent her head down to my chest, kissing her way down.

I grunted, and I seized her underneath her arms and pulled her back up. “No,” I said, “not now, I need…” I couldn’t come up with the words. But I moved her onto my lap, against my straining cock, and I think she got the picture.

She wore a pained expression as I tried to guide myself in—and realized at once the mistake, forgetting my other half wasn’t here to make sure she was wet, the way we usually divided it. I started to pull her off, but she shook her head, holding herself in place against me. Then she licked the pads of her first two fingers and moved them between us, to make small movements on her pearl.

And between the feathered motions as the tips of her fingers brushed my cock and the unbearable pressure as she slowly loosened and relaxed enough to sink down along my length… I nearly lost it all at once.

But I held myself together. Much control is demanded of the hosts of the Fallen.

Face-to-face, it was easy to see her flushed and breathless, unfocused and wild. She seized my shoulders for leverage to draw himself up and down, root to tip and back again, her muscles playing me like a flute. Her verbage came in short, undecipherable gasps, but I understood all I needed to.

But I couldn’t keep this up—regular and rhythmic and steady, Deirdre’s core on me was maddening, enough to excite but not to finish. I tried for as long as I could, remembering the desire to hold this forever, that we’d never be able to do this again…

…but I couldn’t keep going for long.

With a growl, I pushed both of us down, me on top, against the dingy hotel mattress. I pulled one arm around her shoulders to brace her,  threaded the other through the gap at her knee for leverage.

And I thrust into her with all the force of Hell.

I heard her calling through the haze of lust and my own heart beating, wordless cries at first, and eventually a breathless chant of “Daddydaddydaddydaddy—“ If I could pick one moment to spend as the rest of my life, it would be that one.

And then, after an eternity, I finished in her, spewing deep into her core with hitched breathing. I felt suddenly cold, empty and uncertain; I had made a point never to come in her before.

“Deirdre,” I said, somehow finding my tongue again, “I—“

“It’s all right, Father,” she said, pulling me down to her and holding me in her blade-thin arms. “It’s all right. It doesn’t matter… I prefer it this way.”

She had a point. If she would be dead within the week… it really didn’t matter if I’d impregnated her.

I collapsed against her then, boneless and weak. “I’m sorry, my daughter. If only… if only I could trust anybody else…”

“The ritual must be done,” she whispered, stroking the back of my head. “It must be done. Shhh.”

We stayed like that until Anduriel came home.


End file.
